She slips inside in sleepless nights
Smiles on me her celestial lights
The blaze of sun and the glaze of moon
She shows them all and leaves just as soon
She moves amidst those dancing shadows
As if she owns me, around she wallows
Whispering thoughts that’s just my kind
I wonder ofttimes if she reads my mind
When the dawn hits, she’s no more there
Conjured of thoughts, she’s not so real
A spirit, a musing, a fantasy, if you will
Only her touch left behind for me to feel
That’s when I pen her down
And all her whispering
Those genius words!
Those genuine thoughts!
I bleed them all out
For the world to see
And to think I’m a genius!
There can be no greater sin.
I am but a vessel
A simple messenger
For it is I
who can see her, hear her, feel her
So it is I
who must present her beauty to all
It’s not me
Oh, not me!
I am but a messenger
I am but a vessel.
(I posted this poem waaaaayyyyyyyyyy back, but it went well with the sketch I did today, so… that’s that.)